Highland Brides 03 - On Bended Knee (21 page)

His heart felt heavy and his conscience was heavier than his heart.

Seana deserved better than he could ever give her. He was his father’s son, wholly, and she deserved to die an old woman in her bed, without the grief in her heart that his mother had borne. She deserved a devoted husband at her side, cherishing her always.

If he could give that to her, he would… but he couldn’t.

But he could help give it to her…

Broc was a fine man, with a pure heart—even if he was too focused on his duties to notice a woman’s affections lest it smack him in the head.

Well, Colin intended to do just that… to give Seana what she wanted so desperately.

Lifting himself from the bracken soft ground, he went in search of Broc the blond.

“Da?”

Her father didn’t respond, and Seana’s chest tightened painfully.

She’d found him lying in utter darkness and she lit another taper to bring to his bedside, her heart hammering with fear as she inspected him.

He lay as still as Seana had ever seen him lay and she had to put her hand to his breast to even sense his heart beat. His face was pale, as well. She placed a hand to his forehead and found his skin damp and hot.

Fever.

“Father,” she whispered and still he didn’t respond. Seana shook his shoulder gently, trying to wake him, needing the reassurance of his gaze.

He stirred, then, but scarcely.

“Nay,” he said to her, and the sound was almost a rasp.

Heart pounding, Seana leaned closer to hear him. “Da,” she prodded him.

“Dinna… cry,” he told her a bit deliriously, though he didn’t bother to open his eyes. He shook his head. “Dinna cry, Seana…”

“Da…” Seana whined softly, fear taking a greater hold upon her heart. “What’s the matter, Da?” She shook him again, harder this time and his lashes fluttered open.

Seana thought he saw her, but he gave her the queerest look. She had never seen him appear so… incoherent. Even when he’d been sodden with drink, he’d never appeared so confused.

“Seana… child… I did not mean to…” He stopped to swallow, and it seemed difficult for him. “I dinna mean to leave you so long,” he finished, and gasped for a breath. He reached out to touch her face. “I dinna like to hear you weepin’, “ he said in a whisper, his old green eyes cloudy.

Seana tried not to cry. She patted his face lovingly. “Tell me what to do,” she demanded of him. “Tell me how to help ye,” she begged. “What ails ye, Da?”

“I’m… tired,” he murmured, and closed his eyes again. His head lolled to one side.

“Da!” Seana cried out. Her heart thudded to a halt. “Da!” He didn’t respond and she slapped a little more firmly at his face. She had no notion whatsoever how to help him—particularly when she had no notion what ailed him to begin with.

Panic set in.

He wouldn’t wake up, and Seana didn’t know what to do. She knew nothing at all about nursing the sick!

She took his jaw into her hand, and almost burst into tears once more because he felt so frail. “Da!” she cried again. When he didn’t waken, she tried to bundle him to her in an attempt to lift him but frail tho’ he might be, he was still far too heavy for her to lift. Seana set him back down and tucked him in, her mind reeling.

What was she supposed to do now?

She couldn’t just let him lay there and die!

If she couldn’t lift him, she had to go for help. It was the only thing to do, but she didn’t wish to leave him. What if he should perish while she was gone?

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Da,” she said on a sob, and then rose to her feet, staring helplessly down at him.

What should she do?

If she stood here doing nothing then he would surely die. She had to go after help. It was the only solution.

He shivered and she gathered all his blankets at once, then piled them over him, tucking him in as securely as she was able. He had to stay warm. And she must hurry! Where to go for help? Her first thought was of Colin. For her father’s sake, she couldn’t afford to harbor anger toward him. She couldn’t think of anyone else to ask for help.

The MacKinnons were nearer. Maybe Broc would be there? Her heart beat frantically as she tried to decide what to do.

The MacKinnons were nearer, she acknowledged again.

She gave her da a kiss upon the brow and caressed his cheek with a trembling hand. “I’ll be back verra soon,” she promised, and ran to seek help, praying she wouldn’t be too late.

“Aye, Seana. Do ye recall her?” Colin asked.

Broc sat upon a stool, whittling away at a stick, and seemed deep in contemplation, despite that he was taking great pains to appear pleased by Colin’s visit. “Who?” he asked, glancing up.

Colin frowned down at him. Broc’s stick was quickly becoming naught but a stubby little point. “Seana.”

Broc continued to whittle fiercely… almost as though he were venting frustration and Colin watched him curiously, wondering at his thoughts. He had been quiet from the moment Colin had arrived, pleasant, but contemplative. His attention had been for his cousin alone, who was now seated upon his arse against a stone wall, looking just as preoccupied as Broc appeared.

“Donal the drunk’s daughter,” Colin replied and felt a pang of guilt repeating the epithet, despite that Seana was not around to hear it. She had been so defensive of her da. Colin had not meant to hurt her, merely take her defense against her da’s neglect. He’d only intended her to see how extraordinary a woman she had become.

Broc nodded now. “Oh, yah,” he said, giving Colin a strange look before returning his attention to his cousin.

Not that Colin truly wished to speak to Broc about Seana, but he was growing annoyed over their present conversation… or lack of it.

“What of her?” Broc asked suddenly.

Colin peered down to see that Broc was watching him curiously now. “What do ye think of her?” he forced himself to ask.

“She’s a sweet lass, of course,” was Broc’s immediate reply. And he winked up at Colin.

Colin grit his teeth at the wink. She certainly was sweet, but he suddenly found himself wondering just how much time the two of them had spent together, and the possibility of what they had done during that time gnawed at his gut.

“Pretty too,” Broc added.

Colin frowned. “Aye… how well do ye know her?” he couldn’t keep himself from asking, and knew he sounded territorial.

Broc’s expression turned more curious still. “Well enough,” he replied.

Colin felt suddenly impatient with his friend’s answers.

“What do
you
think o’ her is the question?” Broc countered, suddenly eyeing him pointedly. One brow rose… in challenge, Colin thought.

He suddenly didn’t wish to discuss Seana any longer. Damned if he wanted to fight with his old friend, but God’s teeth, neither did he want Broc to have any interest in Seana. In truth, he didn’t think he wanted to know what Broc thought of her.

He
did
want to help Seana get what she most wanted—the problem was… it was in direct opposition to what
he
most wanted and he couldn’t quite bring himself to cast his treasures into another man’s arms.

“What’s with Cameron?” Colin asked, in an attempt to change the subject—before he grew angry enough with his best friend to twist off his nuts. He didn’t like what he was feeling this moment. Never in his life had he been so gut-wrenched with jealousy over a woman—and over a woman that wasn’t even his, nor did she want to be, at that! What the devil ailed him?

He’d never been a jealous. He wasn’t even certain whether he’d ever experienced the emotion, but in any case he damned well didn’t like it.

“I’m not sure,” Broc said, returning his attention to his brooding cousin.

Colin returned to his brooding as well.

As far as he had always been concerned, if any woman wanted him—and he hadn’t met many who didn’t—that was fine with him. And if they didn’t want him, there were too many who did for him to pine over one he might not.

Seana was different.

Seana was… Seana.

She wasn’t at all like other women.

She was brave and she was bold and she was bright and full of passion. She was stubborn, too—and she made him smile, even when she wasn’t trying to…

He found himself smiling now, simply at the thought of her…

Her sauciness amused him, and her decisive way of dealing with her life made him admire her as he hadn’t admired many men. She hadn’t taken her lameness as an excuse to sit and wither in some dark place until she was old and too haggard to care how people felt about her. Nay, but she didn’t seem to care what anyone thought. She made her own way, will ye, nil ye, and to hell with whomever didn’t like it.

“He’s been acting strangely,” Broc disclosed.

For an instant, Colin was too lost in his own thoughts to realize of whom Broc spoke.

“How so?” he asked, once he understood it was Cameron.

The lad was sitting there, tapping fingers together and looking impatient and angry. Colin wondered what the hell was going on.

Broc shook his head, and said, “I canna put my finger on it, but something isna right with that boy… ever since he returned with Merry…”

“Your mutt?” Colin asked, confused now.

Broc’s head fell. He stared at the ground. “Aye… she’s dead,” he disclosed, and seemed almost to choke on the declaration.

Colin blinked in surprise. “Och! How?”

“I dunno,” Broc said, and peered up at Colin, his eyes glassy with tears. But Broc didn’t weep. He said again, “I dunno.” And then he straightened himself and wiped the grief from his expression. He dropped his whittling at his feet, and returned to stare at his cousin.

“He ought to be tending his damned sister!” he remarked, “instead of sitting about feeling sorry for himself.”

Colin hardly knew what to say. Broc’s mutt had been his constant companion for as long as Colin could remember. “His sister?”

“Aye,” Broc said angrily. “He tells me she is ill, and he sits there sulking like a selfish bastard.” He stood suddenly. “I should go see to her myself!”

He started toward his cousin’s home, and Colin stood, wondering if he should follow. He didn’t care to involve himself in family affairs. It wasn’t any of his business.

Broc stopped and peered over his shoulder at him. “Coming?”

Colin shrugged and pushed away from the wall.

“She’s like to be weepin’ over Merry is all.”

“Broc!” Cameron called after them.

Broc kept walking, ignoring his cousin, though Colin stopped.

Cameron started after them. “Where are ye goin’?” he asked, sounding distressed.

“To see to Constance,” Broc said without turning.

“Ye dinna have to!” Cameron told him. “I’ll do it!”

Broc kept going, still ignoring him, and Colin remained where he stood, staying clear of the two of them.

“Dinna bother her!” Cameron shouted, and Broc stopped suddenly, turning to face him.

“Dinna tell me what to do, Cameron,” Broc said. “I said I’m go’n to see Constance, and go’n to see her I bloody well am.”

The two of them stood glaring at each other, and Colin thought they would come to fists.

“What are you hiding, Cameron?” Broc accused him.

Cameron’s face turned red—with anger or chagrin, Colin knew not which.

“Who says I’m hiding anythin’? Just leave my sister be!”

Neither of them spoke then. They stared at each other, both of their expressions full of frustration and anger.

It was then he heard her voice.

Seana.

She came tumbling out of the forest, calling Broc’s name as she ran.

Colin bolted toward her at once—despite that it wasn’t him she was looking for—knowing instinctively something was wrong.

Seana nearly wept with relief when she spied Colin’s face. She ran toward him, out of breath and terrified that she was going to be too late to help her father.

“It’s my da!” she told him hysterically, falling into Colin’s arms. Her face burned with her tears and her eyes stung, but she didn’t care.

Colin seized her head, forcing her gaze up to his. “What’s wrong, lass? Tell me!”

The concern in his eyes made her tears start anew. They poured down her cheeks. She tasted them on her lips. Never in her life had she begged anyone for anything, but she had no pride this moment. For her father, she would have sold her soul.